


Resistance

by Naemi



Category: The Faculty (1998)
Genre: Denial of Feelings, First Time, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-05
Updated: 2012-03-05
Packaged: 2017-11-27 13:43:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naemi/pseuds/Naemi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's difficult for Zeke to admit that maybe—only maybe—he might be falling in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resistance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Prisca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prisca/gifts).



 

Zeke looks at Casey, but his eyes must betray him; he refuses to accept the truth.

A few sleepy rays of sunlight sneak through the curtains, crawl along the carpet and up the bedside to illuminate the boy in his slumber. Zeke reaches out on impulse, but his hand stops in mid-air. If he touches him now, he must admit it's real. His fingers twitch a little as if to tell him it's okay, yet he still hesitates.

Images flare up in his mind, fluttering lashes, rosy cheeks. Casey pouring his heart out to him, his eyes filled with bitter tears. Zeke himself, helpless. Finally offering comfort in the one way he knows best.

The memories are too powerful to be blinked away. Casey's warmth, the softness of his skin, his devotion, trust, lust—love . . . There it is. Love. Zeke's hand falls down on the blanket. He stares at it, feeling just as stranded.

No matter what he thinks he saw in Casey's eyes, it shall not, cannot, possibly affect him. He's been there before, many times, and always got away. No big deal. Zeke should wake the boy now, offer him a shower and a coffee and get his ass out as soon as possible. It's the usual after-fuck procedure. He sticks to it. No exceptions. Ever.

 _It will be strange to walk into him at school,_ Zeke thinks and squirms a little. He feels sore and worn out. _What did I think I was doing?_ There's no answer to it but one he doesn't like: he thought he was doing the boy a favor. Sheer stupidity in the light of day, but what's done cannot be undone. He accepts that much, but not without blushing. 

Zeke manages to take his eyes off of Casey's sleeping body and gets up, careful not to wake the boy. He needs some time alone and a long, hot bath. Maybe, he can wash away both shame and confusion.

~ ~ ~

The mirror is steamed up, but Zeke doesn't care; he's quite happy he doesn't have to look at his own face. The bath has not hushed his mind, but at least he feels refreshed and clean. The radio is now playing one of his favorite songs, and he turns up the volume and sings along.

“Zeke?”

He almost jumps at Casey's voice. “Goddammit! What?”

“I made coffee. Want some?”

Zeke considers saying no, also considers telling the boy off for _feeling at home_ here, but he decides against hostility. It isn't exactly Casey's fault that he feels ashamed, although it somehow is at the same time. He shakes his head, trying to focus.

“Yeah, whatever. Come in.”

“Hey.”

To see the boxer-clad boy beam at him is almost more than he can bear. Zeke's heart skips a beat before it starts racing. “Hey,” he tries to say, but his voice fails even a tiny word.

Casey's smile grows. He hands Zeke a cup of coffee and sits down on the lip of the bathtub with his own cup. The silence between them is odd, though not exactly unpleasant.

After a few minutes of avoiding each other, Zeke looks at the mirror. The steam is gone and his reflection seems surprisingly normal.

“Are we . . . cool?” Casey asks and his voice sounds firm as if to underline he is.

Zeke clenches his teeth for a moment. He isn't cool; nothing is cool. It's all hot and weird and disturbingly welcome.

“Zeke?”

“Yeah. Cool.”

“Okay. Are you gonna throw me out right away or do you maybe want a . . . rematch?” The laughter in Casey's voice is like a strike in the face.

Zeke puts his cup down on the sink, stomach clenching.

“I swear to God, if you tell anyone—if you say one single word to who the fuck ever, I'll kill you. No empty threat. I will.”

“Hmm. I'd better cancel the neon sign, then.”

“The what?” 

“The neon sign I just ordered. It reads, 'Zeke Tyler got fucked in the ass last night' in pink letters. And it has some hearts on it, too.”

Zeke stares at him, his face blank. Oh, that boy. That fucking, stupid, beautiful, silly boy! He doesn't know if he wants to take him over the knee or if he just wants to _take_ him.

Casey's expression morphs into one of fear when Zeke suddenly closes the distance and pulls him up. The cup slips from his hand and shatters on the tiles, splattering coffee all over the floor.

“I'm s-sorry,” Casey starts, but Zeke's lips cut him off.

This is right. It's real. He may need some time to adjust, for it is new and strange and maybe odd—but it is exactly what he has been looking for all along.

There it is.

Love.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the gorgeous AlienSoulDream and whipped into final shape by the wonderful Moit, who also made sure that all characters were returned unharmed.
> 
>  
> 
> _Feedback is love._


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